


Say Hello To Your Friends

by kenjideath



Series: Commissions [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baby-Sitters Club Fusion, Alternate Universe - High School, Asexuality, Ballet, Diabetes, Gen, Learning Disabilities, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:06:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7131827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenjideath/pseuds/kenjideath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 5:30, a group of friends from Wrestlebrook Middle School meet in Dean Ambrose's bedroom. Why? Because they're the Babysitters Club, and they're the best friends you'll ever have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Isn't The Info-Dump Usually In Chapter Two?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SapphoIsBurning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/gifts).



> This fic was largely sparked by a WWE/BSC fancasting conversation on the tumbles, most of which can be seen [here](http://kenjideath.tumblr.com/tagged/baby-wrestlers-club)
> 
> Pay special attention to daltonacademyfightclub's amazing edits and be sure to send her some love for them.
> 
> This work was commissioned by SapphoIsBurning, a shining star if there ever was one. 
> 
> [The BSC Outfits Archive on BSC-Squee](http://bsc.omg-squee.com/baby-sitters-club-outfits-archive/) was an invaluable resource and I recommend it highly.  
> 

It was 5:30 on a Friday, so all of my friends were clustered in my room. I was sacked out on a bean bag chair, trying to remember which of my school books still had a Snickers hidden in it, when Seth Rollins, my best friend, called the meeting to order.

Wait, I should probably introduce myself. My name is Dean Ambrose. I’m an eighth grader at Wrestlebrook Junior High. My friends and I are in a club, called the Babysitters’ Club. Seth came up with the idea when we were twelve. He noticed that our parents often had trouble finding babysitters, because of the hassle of calling around to different houses to find out who was free. Seth hates inefficiency – and especially hates the idea that someone else might be getting more business than him – so he created the club. Now, parents can just call us during one of our regular meetings and be sure to find an experienced babysitter. It’s easier for us, too. Now I can make money without worrying about searching for jobs!

We hold meetings in my room because I’m the only one of us who has my own private phone. Now it’s the official club hotline, which is good because before I mostly just used it to pester Seth and Roman for answers to our homework.

“This meeting of the Babysitters’ Club is now in session,” Seth announced. “Does anyone have any business to discuss? Secretary Roman?”

Roman Reigns, my other best friend, was sitting primly on my bed with his hands folded in his lap. Roman’s family is very strict. They didn’t even want him babysitting at first, and they still make him wear his hair in one thick braid. This makes him kind of uptight, but it also means that he’s good at keeping track of things, which is why he’s our secretary.

“Just the usual reminder,” Roman said, “that we all have to read the entries in the notebook, so please try to make them legible.”

The notebook was another one of Seth’s ideas. After a job, we were all supposed to write down the details of what happened, so that other sitters can know what to expect. It also has all the information like bedtimes and rules for different families. Roman was in charge of keeping it in order, so he could get bitchy about it. I couldn't hold it against him, though, because I’m one of the primary offenders.

“Tch, it’s not big deal,” said the other primary offender. Antonio Cesaro was our treasurer and the most sophisticated boy in our school. He was from Switzerland and he spoke five languages. Sometimes he seemed way more grown-up than the rest of us. For example, today he was wearing a sequined black blazer with wide shoulders over a white shirt patterned with brightly colored squares and red shorts with white crosses on them that went past his knees.

Cesaro is definitely the most fashionable guy we know, but I can more than hold my own. Today I was wearing denim overalls over a tie-dyed shirt, with a denim jacket over that, topped off with a denim newsboy cap and these awesome earrings shaped like little house plants. Cool earrings like that are kind of my trademark.

Right now Cesaro was sprawled on the bed next to Roman, using a compact mirror to examine his face. “As long as we can read it, we can read it. Neatness, English, is not matter, yes?”

Roman let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s what legible _means_ ,” he pointed out. “I don’t care if you can only think of German phrases that properly express your thoughts; you can use English in the notebook like everyone else.”

Bray Wyatt said, “All language is folly. The minds of man are incapable of conceiving the truth.”

“Oh my God, literally who asked?” Roman snapped.

Bray was one of our junior members, along with Kofi Kingston, who was currently sitting on the floor next to him, playing with the ballet shoes he was trying to break in. Bray was weird, but he had four younger brothers, so he was really good with kids. Kofi was nice enough, but he could be really full of himself, especially when he was hanging out with his other friends. Bray and Kofi were both eleven, practically babies, so they couldn't babysit by themselves, but sometimes they worked as mother’s helpers or lent a hand when someone was sitting for a large group.

Seth flicked a Hershey’s kiss at Roman, having found the stash I kept in the bookcase behind him. I always have candy hidden around my room. I have a major sweet tooth but my dad, Mick, will eat anything if I leave it out in the open. “Don’t flip out, Ro,” Seth said. “Everyone will try to write more carefully in the future. Won’t they?”

We all made vague noises of agreement. Roman’s frown deepened, probably because he knew none of us meant it.

“Good,” Seth said. “Treasurer Cesaro, are our finances in order?” Seth always tried to be really official during meetings. It was pretty dorky, but it did help us get in the right mindset.

“Mmm?” Cesaro said. “Yes, yes, everyone’s dues are in. We have almost fifty dollars saved up. It might be time for upgraded Kid Kits soon?”

Kid Kits are another great idea of Seth’s. They’re just boxes full of small toys, stickers, bandaids – all kinds of babysitting necessities. They’re a lifesaver for people like me who have trouble remembering stuff.

Cesaro was wild about shopping, so he loved adding stuff to the Kid Kits. If Seth let him, he’d spend all our dues at Michael’s in a heartbeat.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Seth said. “Vice President Ambrose, have you gotten any calls lately?”

Parents were only supposed to call during meetings, but sometimes they called at other times. When that happened, I was supposed to take down their information so we could get someone on the case at their next meeting.

“Nah,” I said, then, “Oh, wait.” I jumped up and started digging through the junk on my desk. I’m what you call an artistic type, so my room is always a mess.

Finally, I found what I was looking for. The note was under a sculpture I had been working on. My dad was letting me use his soldering iron to weld tacks together, as long as he was there to supervise, and the results were really cool so far. But right now the note was more important.

“Ta-da!” I exclaimed and tossed the paper to Seth.

He peered at it intently for a moment, his lips moving as he read. “Mr. Curtis needs a babysitter for Tyler on Saturday night while he teaches the intermediate ballroom dancing class at the community center,” Seth said, interpreting from my chicken scratch. “He wants the sitter to make sure that Tyler does his homework. He’ll be gone from six to… Dean, did he tell you when he would be back?”

Seth had drilled me on what to write down when people called about a million times but I always forgot something. We used to fight about it a lot, but finally we decided that it was okay as long as I remembered when Seth asked me.

“Nine,” I told him. I always remembered this stuff. As an artist, I actually had a great memory for details. It was just hard to do things in the right order without skipping around or to focus on one thing when it wasn’t interesting at all.

“Okay, watching Tyler from six to nine on Saturday, with bonus homework help,” Seth said. “Who wants to take it? Cesaro?”

“Sorry,” Cesaro said, not sounding it. “I have a date.”

Seth’s nose scrunched in annoyance. “Cesaro, this is the third time this month,” he said crossly. “Tell Tyson that you have things to do besides holding hands by the bleachers.”

Cesaro and I shared a look. All of us full members were thirteen, but Seth and Roman weren’t as mature as Cesaro and me. Seth especially still thought that sports were more interesting that girls or boys. Me and Cesaro were far more advanced than them. Cesaro had gone steady with three different boys and one girl, and I had kissed Renee Young from my English class on the cheek at the Halloween dance.

Seth and Roman even still dressed like kids. Instead of developing a more adult style like Cesaro and I, Seth usually wore high-waisted jeans and band t-shirts with his neon pink high-top sneakers, the way he was today. Roman, meanwhile, always dressed in all black. Today he was wearing a black bodysuit with black shorts over it. He had at least added navy blue suspenders to the look, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

“I can take it,” Kofi offered. He was practicing pointing his toes, although I don't know how useful it was while he was sitting down.

“No, you can’t,” Seth pointed out. “You’re barely older than Tyler.”

“Not in my _heart_ ,” Kofi argued. “In my heart, I’m already a dad. A mega dad.”

“Time is a flat circle. Age is an illusion,” Bray offered.

“ _No_ ,” Seth snapped. “Roman, how about you? You know that I have the Scholastic Decathlon on Saturday or I would do it.”

I had totally forgotten that the Scholastic Decathlon was this weekend! No wonder Seth was so stressed about finding a sitter for Tyler. He was probably already running through strategies in his head.

Seth was seriously competitive. Thankfully for us, he’s usually determined enough that he ends up winning things. But when he doesn’t, boy howdy. I was happy for him when he made the Decathlon team – it was super competitive, even Roman didn’t make the cut – but I had also already made an escape plan in case our school didn’t come out on top.

So it wasn’t surprising that when Roman said, “I need to write a letter to my girlfriend,” Seth blew a gasket.

“You can write a letter anytime!” he said. “Our club depends on our reputation, guys. If we aren’t reliable, people will stop trusting us, stop using our services, and we’ll have to disband and peddle apples on the street for spending money!”

Bewildered, Kofi asked, “Is the club going to disband into the 1930’s?”

Before Seth’s hysteria could go any farther, I said, “I’ll take it.”

Everyone looked at me in surprise. I never took jobs where I had to help people with their homework. I didn’t even do my own homework half the time.

More than half the time.

Most of the time. Always. Whatever.

“Are you sure?” Seth asked.

I shrugged. “’S cool,” I said. Seth immediately looked relieved.

“This is why you’re my best friend,” Seth said.

“Eh? Was about me?” Cesaro asked.

Seth smirked. “You got downgraded when you decided that rubbing noses with your boyfriend was more important than your professional commitments,” he said.

I laughed. Typical drama queen Seth. It was true that I didn’t excel in school, but that was just because my free spirit couldn’t be controlled by the educational system’s attempts to force me into their box of conformity. Anyway, I had babysat for Tyler before and he wasn’t the sharpest bulb in the box either. It was nothing that I couldn’t handle.


	2. Dean's Freind

It turned out that I had totally forgotten what a brat Tyler was. First he was in the wrong outfit for homework and had to spend twenty minutes rooting through his wardrobe for the perfect study clothes. Then he absolutely needed his purple glitter pen before he could start, even though he wasn’t allowed to use glitter pen on his homework anymore. And then after all that, the light was wrong in his bedroom and I had to move everything to the dining room. When Tyler started to complain that now he _far_ too thirsty to read anything and he needed some alkaline water _right now_ or his skin would dry up, my patience was UP.

I dropped Tyler’s easy reader on the table and flipped to the marked page. “You are going to read this chapter,” I said, “or you and me are gonna go upstairs, pick out a furry vest, and _set it on fire in the backyard_.”

Tyler gasped and gripped the furry vest he was wearing right now – a pretty nice neon pink – like he was afraid I would rip it off him right now. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said.

I grinned at him. “You’re right,” I said. “I’d just cut it up for a collage. I’ve got one back home that’s going pretty well, but it just needs some more texture, you know?”

Tyler’s eyes were so wide I thought I could see myself reflected in them. He grabbed his easy reader and held it up to his face. I could hear him whispering to himself as he read. Satisfied, I leaned back in my chair.

I didn’t know what Seth had been worried about; homework help was easy.

\---

Twenty minutes later, I was ready to change my opinion. Tyler had been staring at his book the whole time. He hadn’t even turned the page. I kinda wanted to yell at him for slacking, but he _did_ look like he was concentrating. It just seemed like he should be farther along than he was. I mean, I never read any of those things back when I was supposed to, but still.

I tried to entertain myself by staring at the pictures on the wall and trying to guess when each one was taken based on the girl hanging off Mr. Curtis’ arm. The Rosé one couldn’t have been from that long ago, but when had Mr. Curtis’ facial hair been that bad? I was on the verge of a break through when Tyler screamed and hurled the book across the room.

“IT’S NOT FAIR,” he shrieked. I jumped up from my seat. “IT’S NOT FAIR THAT I’M IN TROUBLE BECAUSE I’M TOO DUMB TO READ.” The tears were starting now and I knew exactly what to do: backtrack like the wind.

“Hey, buddy, you’re not in trouble,” I said in what I hoped was a soothing voice. “I was just joking around. It’s totally fine.”

Then I added, “And don’t call yourself dumb,” because Seth had been on us about getting rid of negative self-talk lately.

“It’s truuuuuuue,” Tyler whined. He had stopped yelling, but now he had his head down on the table and he was crying. “Papa took me to a special doctor and she said that I’ve got a dumb brain and I can’t read right.”

I reached out slowly to rub circles on Tyler’s back. I didn’t want to spook him because Tyler was known to bite sometimes. He didn’t now, though, just sniffled some more.

“Did a doctor really say that?” I asked. I was pretty sure that doctors couldn’t actually tell you that you were stupid, even if it was true.

Tyler snuffled some more. “Yes,” he said. Then he added, “She said that I have die, um. Die-sled-she-uh. But it means the same thing.”

Die-sled-she-uh? What was that? It didn’t look like Tyler knew much more about it, either. “Okay,” I said. “Maybe your brain is bad at reading. My brain’s bad at remembering stuff, but that doesn’t mean I just forget everything and move on. I have to work harder and trick my brain into remembering things in the way it wants to.”

Tyler had stopped crying. His eyes and nose were still red, though. I grabbed a tissue from the box on the other end of the table and held it up for him. “Blow,” I ordered. Tyler obeyed. I dropped the dirty tissue on the floor to deal with later.

“Did the doctor or someone give you tricks and stuff for reading?” I prompted.

“Yes,” Tyler mumbled. “But it’s hard and I don’t want to do it.”

I rolled my eyes, since Tyler was still staring at the table and wouldn’t see. “What are you going to do then?” I asked. “It’s gonna be hard to find a job if you can’t read.”

“I have a plan,” Tyler announced. He looked up and me and folded his arms, so I could see how serious he was. “I’m going to marry Adrian. He’s smart so he’ll make a lot of money an’ I’ll be pretty an’ he’ll buy me things.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep form laughing. “Does Adrian know about this plan?” I asked.

Tyler sniffed to show how much smarter he was than me. “Of _course_ ,” he said.

“Okay,” I said. “So all ‘a this doesn’t matter.” I pulled the easy reader toward me. Now that I looked, I could see that it wasn’t the usual one. It had weird guides and things broken up on it. “Do you want to show me some of those tricks?” I asked. “I’m getting read bored over here and it sounds interesting.”

Tyler didn’t look completely convinced, but he was eager for anything that would get him off the hook so he scooted his chair closer to me and peered down at the book.

“’Kay,” he said. “This is about, uh, this is ‘bout telling ‘D’ and ‘B’ apart.”

“How the heck do you do that?” I asked, and leaned back to let Tyler explain it to me.

\---

When Mr. Curtis came home, Tyler streaked across the room and launched himself into his arms like a tiny blonde cannonball. “Papa, Papa!” he shouted, holding his arms up. Mr. Curtis didn’t waste a second and quickly scooped him up and brought him in for an Eskimo kiss.”

“How’s my little Mayor of Cuteville!” Mr. Curtis said. “Were you good?”

Tyler was already bursting to tell him. “Papa, I read the whole chapter! ‘An I circled the parts that were hard and I read the whole thing, Papa!”

“You did!” Mr. Curtis exclaimed. He planted a big kiss on Tyler’s forehead. “I knew you could! Didn’t I tell you? If you work hard enough, you can do anything. Rock is hard, but sooner or later a river turns it into a pearl. That’s science.” Tyler giggled.

When Mr. Curtis paid me, he gave me an extra ten and wouldn’t take it back. “Consider it a tip,” he said. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me to see Tyler like this. He’s been so discouraged and I do what I can, but…”

I patted him on the arm. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “No one can do everything. That’s why the Babysitters Club is here.”

I had a spring in my step all the way home. I knew that homework help wasn’t as hard as everyone else made it out to be!

And maybe on Monday I’d ask the club about this “die-shed-she-uh” and where you went to find out if you had it. Just ‘cause.


	3. Kofi's Big Break

My name’s Kofi Kingston. I’m a sixth grader at Wrestlebrook Middle School, but more importantly, I’m a ballet dancer. I’m basically the best at it. Some people say that I’m conceited, but I think that they’re just jealous.

I’m a junior member of the Babysitters Club along with my best friend, Bray Wyatt. Bray is pretty weird, but he’s not so bad when you get to know him. Or at least that’s what I think, but my other two best friends don’t agree at all. Whenever I tell E and Xavier – those are my other two best friends, E and Xavier – that I’m going to Bray’s house, they always look at me with horror. I try to tell them that Bray isn’t so bad, really. He talks a big game – or, at least, I think he does; he can be pretty tricky to understand – but it’s hard to find someone _too_ scary when you’ve seen him change a diaper or spoon feed Cheerios to a little kid.

Or maybe it's just my extreme generosity of spirit? It’s hard to tell.

Bray dropped his book bag on the floor as soon as we stepped inside, but I kept mine on, in case, I needed to make a speedy escape. I’m not afraid of Bray but I’m not stupid, either. I also took advantage of my ballet training to stay on my toes, making it easier to pick my way around the mysterious stains that littered the carpet.

In the kitchen, I could clearly hear Bo, one of Bray’s little brothers, singing along to the radio.

“Who put the bomp in the bomp bah bomp bah bomp?” Bo sang. At six, Bo was the second youngest of Bray’s brothers. He always seemed to have way more energy than the others. Right now, he was running in circles with his arms in the air. “Who put the ram in rama lama ding dong? Luke, sing with me!” Bo demanded.

Luke was the second oldest brother at nine. He was sitting at the kitchen table, helping eight-year-old Erick with his times tables. “Who put the bop in bop shoo bop shoo bop?” Luke asked dutifully.

Bo shrieked in delight. “Who put the dip in the dip da dip da dip?” he shouted.

A harsh cry rang out through the house and Bo stopped in his tracks, looking surprised and guilty. Luke glanced toward the noise and got up, ruffling Erick’s hair as he went. “Back in a minute,” he said.

“How many times have I told you to let sleeping giants lie?” Bray said severely.

Bo looked down at his feet and squirmed. “’M sorry,” he mumbled. Bo tucked his thumb into his mouth and looked like he might be blinking back tears.

Bray sighed, clearly not able to stay mad. “Do not covet your neighbor’s property, but share in it and be back in time for dinner,” he said, and Bo’s contrite look fell away as if it had never been there.

“Thank you, big brother!” Bo chirped. “Me an’ Axel are gonna build a cardboard train!” and he was out the door like a shot.

Bray rolled his eyes. “Brat,” he muttered fondly. See? It’s hard to stay too creeped out by them, even when they’re being creepy.

Luke came back with the baby, still bawling his head off, and seemed to be going for the fridge, but Bray just said, “To me,” and Luke handed the bundle over before going back to helping Erick. Bray swooped little Braun in for a cuddle and he calmed down almost immediately, his scrunched up red face smoothing out as much as it ever did.

“What brings you to my domain?” Bray asked. He bounced Braun in his arms, making the baby let out happy burbling sounds. “All men are selfish and ruled by their wants. Some fools delude themselves with ideas of Charity, but under the guidance of Mother Abigail, all illusions are swept away.”

Bray’s mom worked down at the community center. She’d been my teacher last summer when I’d taken a step dancing class – just to branch out, you know – and she’d been utterly terrifying but my form had never looked better. Anyway, I had come here to ask a favor, so I said, “You know that audition I was telling you about? For this year’s Nutcracker at the Wrestlebrook Ballet? How they were going to let one Middle schooler into a serious chorus role and I was a shoe-in?”

Bray hummed his confirmation. Then he lifted Braun up to blow a raspberry on his tummy, making the little blob giggle.

I crossed my legs. “Well, I heard this morning that the role went to Aiden English.” I tried not to sound to furious, but it was hard. That guy was just… just… booty!

“You suspect foul play,” Bray said.

I sniffed. “I suspect they didn’t want a black Snowflake,” I said, not seeing any point in beating around the bush.

Bray grinned and yeah, okay, that was pretty creepy. “Mother Abigail will hear about this,” he announced, “and her servants will make it right.”

I smiled back. Sometimes being best friends with Bray was a real pain, but it was worth it more often than not.


	4. Cesaro's Big Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for this fic, at least for now! I have some other thoughts that will probably make their way into a new chapter sooner or later, especially the Roman stuff that I hinted at in the first chapter but never got around to writing. I am sorry that I promised Dean and the Phantom Phone Calls and then didn't provide, but I could not for the life of me think of a way to make it interesting. Just imagine that Dean got a lot of calls with only heavy breathing on the other end, and then it turned out to be Chris Jericho. 
> 
> This was a ton of fun and I hope you all liked it!

Seth showed up to my house ten minutes before I had to leave if I was going to be on time for my date. I was about to lovingly tell him to scram when I saw the way he was shuffling like a zombie before flopping down on my bed like he’d been killed. I mentally sent an apology to Tyson and sat down next to Seth.

“You did not win the decathlon?” I guessed.

Seth nodded without picking his head off the bed. “Second,” he said, his voice muffled by the blankets.

I made comforting noises and pulled the ugly visor off of Seth’s head. I was always of the opinion that Seth would feel a lot better generally if he took better care of his appearance. I tossed it across the room, hoping it would get lost, and started finger-combing Seth’s hair, trying to rub some of the awful harsh product he used out.

“Our mathematician’s girlfriend was there to support her,” Seth said, “and she was so busy flirting she could barely count on her fingers.”

“Irresponsible!” I said. I could sympathize a little, but I knew how much that kind of thing annoyed Seth. I tugged on Seth’s hair. “Get up,” I said. “I am going to do your hair. You will feel better.”

Seth sat up and stared forward listlessly. He didn’t even react when I started spritzing his hair with water.

I was starting to get kind of worried.

“Toni,” Seth said. “What does it feel like to like someone?”

“Uh,” I said. It wasn’t like Seth to ask questions like that. He usually couldn’t care less about romance stuff. “It’s like…” I started to comb out Seth’s hair, trying to buy myself some time to think. “You know when you start doing something new? And you not good at it yet, but want to be? And you want to practice all the time?” I put down the comb and started rooting around for some nice leave-in conditioner. “It’s a little bit like that. You want be around them always. You always getting better with them.”

“Is there…” Seth was twisting his fingers on a broken loop on his jeans. “Is there something wrong with me? That I never feel like that?”

For a second, I felt like my heart had stopped. And that isn’t just a figure of speech; I have diabetes, so I have had many medical emergencies before, and am more familiar with such sensations.

Then I sat down on the bed and pulled Seth into a hug. “There is _nothing_ wrong with you,” I said, and I meant it, 100%.

“Oof,” Seth said. “Don’t – you don’t have to be so – “ Seth squirmed a little, but returned the hug. “’S not such a big deal,” he mumbled.

“Yes,” I agreed readily. “No big deal.”

After a few minutes, Seth sniffed and pushed me away, trying to wipe his eyes without drawing attention to it. “Weren’t you going on a date today?” he asked. “When is it?”

I glanced at the clock on his wall. “Ten minutes ago,” I said.

Seth’s jaw dropped in shock. “What!” he said. “What are you doing _here_? Go! Run!”

I laughed. “A gentleman never runs,” I said. “Besides, my best friend needs me. More important than silly date.”

Seth blushed. “If you feel that way about it, you should have taken the Tyler job,” he complained, but I knew he didn’t mean it seriously. Well, not _that_ seriously.

“Where are you meeting Tyson?” Seth asked. “How late will you be if you leave now?”

“Ice cream parlor, so not too late,” I said, and immediately realized my mistake when Seth narrowed his eyes at me.

“You can’t eat ice cream. Because of your diabetes,” Seth said. “Why would Tyson want to take you to an ice cream parlor?” I swallowed nervously. Curse my president’s speedy mind! “Don’t tell me that you haven’t told him yet!” Seth exclaimed.

I rubbed the back of my neck and looked away. “I will tell him when –” I started, and then a pillow slammed into my face.

“Tell your stupid boyfriend about your diabetes!” Seth shouted, walloping me with the pillow over and over again. “Oh my god! You are so ridiculous! It’s a good thing I don’t want to date! I have no time after taking care of _all of you!_ ”

I rolled off the bed, laughing, and made a break for the door. “We do not want you to be bored!” I called back. It was a relief to see Seth acting normal, even if it was at my expense.

“Tell him!” was Seth’s final command, and I heard the pillow bounce off the door behind me.

“Ja, ja, ja,” I called back, grinning, and ducked out of the house to catch my date.


End file.
